


She's Real

by TheDeathEcchi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7993600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDeathEcchi/pseuds/TheDeathEcchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fareeha Amari valued three things in her life. The first was Angela, love of her life, woman of a thousand miracles, oasis of her heart. The second was justice, her willingness to do what was right, and protect those dear to her. The third was pride.</p><p>And it was most likely pride that led to her not informing the rest of the team of her mother's return. To both the watchpoint, and from the grave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's Real

**Author's Note:**

> The plot and inspiration come from this absolute ledge of a post~
> 
> http://gravehelm.tumblr.com/post/148190693121/okay-i-love-the-idea-of-heartfelt-reunions-with

Fareeha Amari valued three things in her life. The first was Angela, love of her life, woman of a thousand miracles, oasis of her heart. The second was justice, her willingness to do what was right, and protect those dear to her. The third was pride.

And it was most likely pride that led to her not informing the rest of the team of her mother's return. To both the watchpoint, and from the grave.

Or pettiness. It was a fine line.

When she'd first got the call, she'd been alone, thankfully, as it gave her ample room to freak out. The last she'd heard of her mom, she'd been outsniped by the deadly Widowmaker and left for dead. She's not ashamed to say she cried. She'd lost one of the most important people in her life, and yet it was that very loss that inspired her further to be an Overwatch agent.

And now that reason was on the phone, acting so nonchalant it infuriated her.

"Dear, you sound so upset." chuckled Ana. "I think you'd be happy to know I'm still alive."

"Upset? **_Upset!?_** " hissed Fareeha, trying to keep her voice down. It was late at night and she didn't want to wake up the entire watchpoint. "I don't even know where to begin with you! For years you disappear, so many of us thought you dead, and then I get a call from you out of the blue as though nothing's wrong?!"

Ana tutted, bolstering her daughter's anger further. "Such anger, child. It's not becoming of you. Something we can discuss when I arrive tomorrow. Be sure to let your new friends know."

"How dare you order me around!" Fareeha gripped the phone hard, knuckles turning bone-white. "Maybe I won't tell them at all, so they can be as surprised as I was!" Without giving her mother time to respond, she slammed the phone down.

And it was this simple action that set in motion, quite possibly, the oddest night in the history of the newly-formed Overwatch.

-/-/-/-/-

McCree grumbled as he ambled out of bed, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness of his room. He let out an exaggerated yawn before getting up, dragging his feet to the common room. Sleep just wasn't coming to him. Normally he'd guzzle down a bottle of one of his prized whiskeys, but his entire personal stash had mysteriously disappeared a few nights ago. He grumbled again at the memory of when he first saw the drinks absent. It was probably Hana, that gremlin.

Navigating the watchpoint half-asleep and in the dark was easier than expected. He knew the layout by hand, and reached the common room in a flash. With his goal in sight, he became more alert, rummaging through the cupboards in search of his precious elixir.

The room was suddenly bathed in amber light, and an all-too-familiar voice came from behind him. "Jesse McCree. What on _earth_ are you doing up at this hour?"

His heart was either beating so fast he couldn't feel it, or had stopped entirely. Slowly, he turned around, convinced he had to be hallucinating. There she was. The same brown skin, the same playful smirk, the same golden eyes--well, eye. She stood with her arms folded, tapping her foot as she waited for McCree to give an answer. Which came in the form of a loud, piercing scream. 

The lights shut off and the halls were immediately filled with the sound of trampling feet, but Ana was already gone. Seconds later, the entire team was in attendance, weapons at the ready. "Jesse!" shouted Angela, rushing over to the stunned cowboy. "Are you alright? Speak up!"

A few moments later and he finally seemed to have found his voice. "A...Ana." he swallowed thickly and ran a hand through his hair. "Ah jus' saw _Ana_."

Silence reigned in the common room. The original members of the Overwatch team shared uneasy glances, all thinking the same thing. Their resident cowboy had finally snapped.

"Jesse..." Angela spoke in a soothing tone, patting the man's shoulder. "It's...it's late. You should probably come to the sick bay. You're seeing things."

"Believe me, ah ain't." he shot back. "It was her. Clear as day."

"Or an empty bottle." Lena mumbled under her breath, earning a light yet reproachful thump from Winston.

Angela escorted Jesse back to the sick bay, pointedly ignoring his assurance that 'She was really here, dammit.' The rest of the team, only slightly annoyed by the interruption, trudged off back to their rooms. "Cowboy's got some imagination, huh, Fareeha?" chuckled Jack.

The young woman laughed nervously in agreement as she left, trying to mask the terror in her heart. 'Oh, dear.'

Hidden off in the corner, cloaked in darkness, Amélie clutched her tin of macaroons to her chest. 'He's insane.' she thought, taking one out and munching it thoughtfully. 'I wouldn't be alive right now if Ana was actually here.' She swallowed, both the confection and the lump in her throat. 'Good thing she's really dead.'

-/-/-/-/-

"Ah ain't goin' loony!" snapped McCree, crossing the line from annoyed into severely ticked off. "You think ah'd mistake anything or anyone fer her?"

Angela listened patiently to Jesse's outburst, hands folded in contemplation. There were two possibilities before her. The first was that he was starting to lose his mind; whether from the stress of the job or some other reason she couldn't yet determine. The second was...somehow, against all odds...Ana Amari was, in fact, alive. 

And she didn't know which was more shocking.

"Ah saw her." She almost didn't hear him. His voice had dipped into a quiet whisper. "Ah'm telling you, I ah saw her."

"It's alright, Jesse." she consoled. Reaching for the glass of water and sleeping pill she set aside, she handed it to the cowboy. "Sometimes this happens. Stress, you know--"

The lights abruptly clicked off, and Jesse screamed again. Behind her, Angela heard a familiar voice. A voice she didn't think she'd ever hear again.

"So, Ziegler...you and my daughter, hm?"

Her blood had turned to ice. A cold sweat broke out on Angela's forehead, and she was suddenly very aware of the beating of her heart. She figured her death would occur on the battlefield, giving her life so that someone may continue theirs. Not here, in her own sick bay, riddled with bullets from an old ghost. She dared not turn around.

"I always worried whether or not Fareeha would settle down with a good person." she mused. "The two of you together brings me wonderful joy." Her jovial tone was almost immediately replaced with a venomous hiss. "One toe out of line...make her unhappy in _any_ way, and every embarrassing photo...every video of you drunk table dancing, singing songs older than you--older than _Reinhardt_...oh, she'll see them all. _Every. Single. One._ Are we clear?"

Angela, face bright red, nodded. "Ye-Yes. Yes, ma'am."

"Good girl." The jovial tone was back. "I have already begun making plans for the wedding." There was a sound like wind blowing, and she was gone, the only other occupant the terrified cowboy.

"Somehow," he said, downing the tablet and water at light speed. "'Ah toldjya so'...don't pack quite the proper punch."

-/-/-/-/-

Hana yawned and rubbed her eyes as she shambled back to her room. "Stupid cowboy..." she muttered. "Who sees phantom old ladies, anyway? He's been drinking way too much..."

So tired was Hana, she barely noticed the large shadow she almost bumped into. "Hello, dearie." 

Hana looked up, all thoughts of sleep gone at the sight of Ana staring down at her with a warm smile.

"Uh...hi." she replied uneasily. "Like...wow. Holy shit. You're not dead."

"Indeed." She knelt down and patted Hana's shoulder. "Young lady, I will teach you how to shoot."

Hana pouted and crossed her arms. "I was a soldier. I already know how to shoot. Why does everyone forget that? So annoying."

A motherly, yet manic grin spread across Ana's face. "I will teach you to shoot through the center of a coin over a kilometer away."

The gamer blinked. "That's...actually pretty cool. Okay, sure. Thanks, ma'am."

"Grandmother."

"I'm sorr-- _what?_ " But she was gone, vanished as quickly as she appeared. 

-/-/-/-/-

Lúcio shuffled back to his room, whispering a tune to himself. "That's not bad." he chuckled, mind already at work coming up with a new song. He was only a few feet from his room when an elderly Egyptian woman strolled past, giving him a friendly wave.

The DJ paused, before shaking his head and scurrying back to his room. "Nope. Nuh-uh. Not getting involved in any of that."

-/-/-/-/-

"I feel sorry for Jesse." sighed Winston. He and Jack were back in their shared room, going over the points for the mission briefing tomorrow. "This line of work must really be getting to him."

Across from him, Jack offered a noncommittal grunt. Which Winston supposed was the best he could get out of him.

"Stop slouching, Jack. And don't grunt; you _know_ I hate that."

Jack stood stock-still, eyes wider than saucers. Winston blinked in surprise as he stared past the former commander, pushing his glasses up. "Oh. Ana. Not dead?"

"Not particularly. Say, where's the armory? I need a rifle."

Winston pointed out the door. "Take the elevator to level three, and turn left. It's...lovely to see you again."

"Likewise, Winston. You've certainly grown. Ta-ta." And she was gone.

Silence reigned in the room for a few minutes. Winston leaned over the table and lightly tapped Jack on the shoulder. "She's real. I thought you should know."

"Jesus." Jack whispered shakily, his hands refusing to stay rigid. And then it clicked. "Winston. She wanted a rifle. We have to stop her."

A cry of alarm echoed from the hall. Grabbing his pulse rifle, Jack sprinted out into the hall, only to be immediately shoved aside by a frantic-looking Amélie. "Out of the way!"

Jack turned to see Ana, rifle in hand, laughing maniacally. "Who's the better sharpshooter now!? Say it, Lacroix!" 

-/-/-/-/- 

Fareeha heard the chaos reigning above her and sighed. Perhaps she'd officially reintroduce her mother in the morning.

There was the booming crack of a sniper rifle followed by a heavy French accent screaming 'My _**arm!**_ ' Which was then, in turn, followed by 'At least you can see the injury with both eyes!'

The Egyptian woman threw off her covers and began racing upstairs. Better sooner rather than later.


End file.
